~The idea for some of this actually came from my long-suffering husband. He bought me the Firefly box set, and then realised his mistake. But it wasn’t the only box set he gave me, and putting the two next to each other, well, my brain did a horrible thing. Less of a crossover, more of a temporal echo. None of it is mine.~

1. A Fistful of Credits

It’s the biggest town on the planet. Hell, it’s the only town on the planet. Shines like a fallen star in the desert, and like any other oasis seen from afar, up close, it’s a mirage. A mean, flashy sinkhole of a place, devoid of morals and driven by excess. There’s law of a sort here, but it’s a town where you can get anything. Including dead. Life is cheap here. Death is cheaper - all you have to do is to be in the wrong place...

The Kit Kat Klub is halfway down the Strip. Not the newest or the smartest, but popular. The tables are straight, the girls are clean and the drinks aren’t watered. Comparatively speaking. Right now, it’s a mess. The whole facade has been stitched by gunfire, and not small calibre. The bright neon sign sheds sparks from its shattered tubes, the hologram dancer caught in a spastic jerk more epileptic than inviting. The ion-field windows fizz faintly as the wind whips small flurries of dust against them. The night is so late, that it’s becoming early, and there’s the rim of gold and rose over the distant mountains, promises a hot day. But in a town that never really sleeps, someone is always working. Sound of an engine in the distance, and the dark bulk takes shape.

This vehicle is designed to stand up to the toughest of terrain, and its dark anonymity simply screams officialdom. It slews to a halt, and the door opens. Dark boot crunches down on the dusty road. The Law has arrived.

Dressed in black, head to toe, the man in charge is stocky, compact. The hair under the flat-brimmed hat is threaded with grey, but the face has the calm intent of a younger man. When he slips off his dark glas